Cold Hard Facts
by SingularToast
Summary: Agent!Puckerman was sleeping with the enemies' daughter to find them and bring them in, unaware that she knew who and what he was after all along.


**One I've been working on for LJ's PuckRachel drabble meme ...**

* * *

><p>Taking a few extra moments to appreciate the fine body lying naked next to him, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman ran a hand down her slick side, enjoying the feel of her heated and still slightly damp skin. She was beautiful, and he hadn't had that much fun in a while.<p>

Not since he'd stopped sleeping with her way back after high school when everything changed.

Feeling his features hardening and his grip on her thigh tightening, Puck tilted his head from side to side, sighing at the audible cracks before carefully moving from the bed. But not before he accidently woke the slumbering beauty next to him.

"Noah?" She murmured sleepily, raising her head and looking over her shoulder at him.

"I just gotta go take a shower babe," he murmured softly when she shifted, and he pressed a light kiss against the corner of her mouth, making her smile lazily.

"Should … should I get up?" She asked him softly, rubbing a hand absently against her temple.

Shaking his head, Puck pressed her shoulder down, encouraging her to relax into the bed again. "Nah, I'll only be a second. You just sleep it off." Smirking down at her, he added, "You need to get your rest after those last couple of rounds."

Feeling far too proud of the satisfied smile that crossed her features at those words, Puck watched as her eyes drifted shut again. The brunette snuggled back under the covers, burying her face against her pillow and sighing contentedly. Pushing the covers aside he stood up, smirking smugly at the clothing-strewn floor and mentally reliving the last few hours.

But no time for that. He had about fifteen minutes to get this right, if that. That girl had always been a light sleeper.

Padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, he hurried toward the bathroom. Snagging a towel off the rack, one that was thankfully not pink, he wrapped it quickly around his hips and leaned into the shower to turn the water on. As the water pounded onto the tiled floor and steam started billowing into the air, Puck stepped back toward the door and poked his head out, checking on the bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was still open a couple of inches, and he could just barely see the rumpled sheets that were pulled over the woman's body.

Turning his head he looked at the bedroom directly across from where he stood and his eyes narrowed.

_Their daughter's_ body.

Quietly darting across the hallway, he opened the door to the other bedroom carefully and let himself inside, making sure to shut the door as close to closed as possible. It both relieved and irritated him that there was no squeak in the hinges – he wouldn't know if anyone else walked in behind him.

Looking around the grand room, barely taking in the stylish furniture and the neutral grey and cream colour scheme, Puck quickly assessed what was in front of him.

After dating their daughter in his late teens and again more recently over the last couple of weeks, he could safely say that the most secure place in the Berry's household had to be their very own bedroom. The only room he hadn't yet combed over, the only room he hadn't been able to gain access to, was this damn bedroom. The documents had to be in here. This had to be it.

If it wasn't, he didn't know where else he'd find his proof. This whole assignment had been a nightmare from the beginning.

Malcolm and David Bradford, aka Mark and Danny Berry, had been in front of his face long before he'd even gotten this stupid job. All these years, the two conmen had been holed up in goddamn Lima, Ohio.

His ex-girlfriend's fathers. Lima. Ohio. And he was the one charged with bringing them in.

Not for the first time, he thought this small world was a really fucked up place.

Getting his head back into focus, Puck knelt on the ground, feeling the towel slip from the knot at his hips in the process. One hand clutching the useless fabric, he checked first for anything that had possibly been slid under the bed or between the mattresses, before then peeling back the shaggy rug on the floor and feeling for abnormal grooves in the floorboards. Scowling and getting to his feet when he came up with naught, he turned then to the bedside tables and lastly the dresser opposite the bed, methodically checking draws, moving aside clothing and eyeing the depths of each for false bottoms and anything that might have hidden what he was looking for.

So caught up in his search, he stupidly forgot to keep an eye on that damn quiet door.

"Noah, baby, what're you doing in here?"

Fuck.

Pausing mid-action, Puck didn't even turn around as his rational mind told him he probably should feel just a tiny bit embarrassed about being caught red handed with his hands in her fathers' underwear draw. Forcing out a falsely bright tone, he replied, "Nothing babe, just looking for some other shower gel. Don't really like the sweet-smelling stuff you've got in there."

A very unladylike snort of disbelief followed that statement and Puck felt a grin tug at his lips. But an unmistakable click sounded soon after and he froze. "Of course you were, honey," she replied in a sickly sweet voice, and Puck felt his jaw clench. If he knew she was packing heat, he never would have stayed the night.

Hell, if he knew she _knew_ he wouldn't have stayed at all.

Ah, fuck. Who was he kidding? He would have stayed anyway. The fact that she was armed only made this damn woman unbearably hotter.

"Show me your hands."

Glancing down at the towel that he still held closed in one hand, Puck said slowly. "Do you really want me to do that, Rach?"

"Show me your goddamn hands, Puckerman!"

That wasn't the Rachel Berry he had come to know again these last few weeks. He hated that he loved this feisty side of her just as much. Sighing, Puck let go of the towel and raised his hands, linking his fingers behind his head.

"Now ... now turn around."

Smirking, Puck swivelled on the spot slowly, staring unabashedly at a shirt-clad Rachel as he stood completely naked before her. He didn't miss the way her eyes darted all over his body, or the way her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes flashed as she looked at him.

"You've got a lot of nerve doing what you're doing," she told him haughtily, carefully stepping further into the room.

_And you've got a lot of nerve pointing a loaded weapon at me, _he thought, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"What're you looking for in my daddies things?" She demanded to know, aiming the gun she held directly at his chest.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he replied glibly, wondering for a moment if she really did _know_. She was packing heat, and clearly wasn't just the sweet temptress he'd accidently-on-purpose bumped into at the Lima Pub four weeks ago.

Well, she was still the temptress. And she tasted damn sweet.

"There's not much you could say that would surprise me at this point," she told him, her eyes darting to the rest of the room for just a second as she took in what he had been doing. Not that she would be able to see any evidence of him being through there; he was good at his job after all.

But did she seriously think she could take him on by herself? Even armed she wouldn't be enough of a match for him. She certainly wouldn't be able to tackle him or hold him until reinforcements arrived. He'd barely felt her weight when she'd slumped over him in a boneless pleasure-induced slumber.

Still, she did have a gun. He could work through a bullet wound but it would still hurt like hell. He had to disarm her.

"I bet," he murmured, slowly walking across the room toward her.

Almost instantly Rachel's gaze hardened and her grip on the handheld tightened further as she warned him, "Don't come any closer!"

Slowly to a halt when he was just a foot away from the outstretched gun, Puck cocked his head sideways, asking, "Are you going to shoot me, Rach?"

For a moment she stood perfectly still, her eyes trained on his face and her aim unmoving from his chest, but years of training meant he caught the slight tremor that ran through her arms as her resolve wavered just slightly. Buoyed, he stepped forward again, allowing the barrel of the gun to dig into his chest. Rachel's lips parted slightly in surprise, but otherwise she didn't move.

This could go very badly, but he sensed that she wouldn't actually shoot him. In fact, while he could tell from her stance and how she handled the gun alone that she had in fact shot one before, he would bet that this was the first time she had ever aimed a weapon at another person. Her heart wasn't in it; she didn't have that steely resolve he had learned to expect from his attackers.

"Rach?" he murmured.

Briefly her eyes darted up to meet his, but otherwise she kept her gaze locked somewhere to the right of his eyes, clearly watching for any sign of movement. He would have tutted her if she wasn't currently aiming to shoot his heart – her gaze should have been on his chest, not his face. If it had been, she would have seen the slight flinch in his muscles just before he snapped his hands up, gripping her wrist painfully with one and removing the gun from her control with the other. Absently flicking the safety back on, he tossed the gun aside, listening as it landed with a soft thud on the bed, but otherwise kept his eyes on the outraged Rachel in front of him.

"What—?" Watching as she raised a fist against him, Puck deflected the soft blow and held her wrists, pushing both behind her back and drawing her in flush against his naked body in one fluid movement. "You wouldn't have shot me," he told her cockily.

"I would now if you hadn't stolen my gun," she bit out between gritted teeth, but he barely paid attention to what she was saying. Instead, he took in the way a rosy blush bloomed first in her cheeks then travelled slowly down her neck to her chest and disappeared beneath the collar of her shirt. _His_shirt. Her breath was coming out in quick pants against his face, and Puck watched as her eyes dilated.

"Keep looking at me like that babe, and _my gun _is likely to go off," he growled softly, digging his hips into her, pressing his growing erection against her stomach.

When she visibly shivered against him, her body recalling just what he had been doing to her only an hour earlier, Puck couldn't hold back. Con-men daddies and his job forgotten, Puck dropped his mouth to hers with a needy groan.

For a long, painful moment she stood stiff in his arms. Then she began to struggle with her hands slightly, and he only let them go long enough to reach down and cup her ass, dragging her in those last few inches to press fully against him.

He assumed the hiss she let out wasn't one of protest when her hands clutched roughly at his shoulders, her nails digging into the skin. Then she was melting against him, tongue meeting his eagerly, and it took all his self-control not to drag her to the ground right that moment. Lifting her effortlessly, Puck stumbled over to the bed and turned to drop back against the covers, groaning when Rachel's legs fell either side of his hips and she pressed herself against him.

The heated moment fractured when he felt the cold metal of the gun sliding down against his shoulder. Rachel's hand snaked quickly over his skin, her fingers wrapping around the handle of the gun, and they both froze.

For the briefest of seconds, Puck wondered if he'd have time to disarm her before she blew his brains all over her father's bedspread.

But then Rachel tossed the weapon further up the bed away from them, and his instincts fired up long enough to tell him it had landed somewhere near the pillows before he was focusing once again on the woman hovering above him.

"I shouldn't be doing this," she whispered even as she took his hands in hers, sitting upright and placing them on her body.

Puck remembered a time four weeks ago when she'd said those exact same words after they'd stumbled home from the Pub. Their meaning was a little different back then. "So don't," he told her, arching his hips to press his cock against her heat. Taking her shirt – his shirt – in his hands, he tugged it up and off her body, blatantly admiring her as he tossed it aside.

Shifting back slightly and rocking her hips just so, Puck groaned and arched again when his cock slid against her already wet folds. "Would you really want me to stop?" She asked him breathily.

"Fuck no," he ground out, reaching between them to take his cock in hand, pressing the tip against her entrance. "Come on baby," he urged.

They both let out moans of pleasure when she sank down on him.

Forgetting her fathers, forgetting his mission, forgetting everything bar the gorgeous brunette grinding over him, Puck's hands raised to dig into Rachel's waist as he snapped his hips, pounding up into her repeatedly.

Lying there in the aftermath with her body collapsed beside him, Puck wondered if this, this pseudo-relationship they'd begun, was doable – until Rachel's voice cut into his thoughts.

"I tipped them off," she said into the silence, and Puck felt tension return to his body. "I knew who you were, Noah, and what you were doing back in Ohio. I saw you at the coffee shop the first day you arrived into town. They left half an hour later."

And he'd stupidly stayed, fucking their daughter, believing her tale about the Caribbean cruise they'd treated themselves to, thinking he'd wait them out. Rolling onto his side, Puck contemplated the woman lying next to him. Her eyes were almost shut, but he could see the slight glimmer beneath her lashes as she looked back at him.

It cost him the mark, but he couldn't say he regretted the delay entirely.

"There's nothing here for you, Noah." It was difficult to tell if she was talking about more than just this case and her fathers, until she continued. "My fathers aren't stupid enough to leave anything of importance here."

"Except you."

Her lips parted to reply before closing shut again. He hadn't needed to look over her father's criminal record and case file to figure out what he'd known since high school; those two men doted on their only daughter.

"Are you going to arrest me or take me in for questioning?" she asked eventually.

Sighing, he debated his answer before replying. "Do you know where they are, where they've actually gone?" Since the river cruise was clearly a scam she'd concocted.

He watched her face carefully and studied her eyes, but couldn't really detect a lie when she murmured a simple, "No."

"Then no, I'm not going to do anything. This time."

Nodding, Rachel turned and rolled off the bed, bending down to scoop up the shirt he had thrown aside before.

Not wanting them or this conversation to be over just yet, Puck grabbed her arm before she could walk far. "You know the next time I see you I'll need to bring you in. Aiding and abetting, Rachel, even for family, doesn't look good in court."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Scowling when that brought no real reaction from her, Puck tugged her back again and hissed, "I mean it, Rach. I'll slap handcuffs on those wrists of yours and drag you back to the head office myself."

"Promise?"

"Rachel, listen to me—"

Her eyes flashed and he saw the return of the Rachel Berry who had stepped through the bedroom door not too long ago with a gun in her hand. "No, Puckerman, you listen to _me_. They're my fathers. Whatever else they've done in life, they raised me well and taught me to place family above all else. They've been nothing but faithful parents and highly protective since my birth." Her eyes softened. "I'm not going to ask you to understand that, just accept it."

His jaw tightening, he let her arm slip from his grasp as she stepped away to tug the shirt back over her head.

"I think you better leave," were the last words he heard before she walked out of the room.


End file.
